


what it means to yearn

by HobblyWobbly



Series: Therefore You and Me [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), POV G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Pining, hes been pining for a long time, set post holminster switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobblyWobbly/pseuds/HobblyWobbly
Summary: “...!” It has been too many years for the Exarch to quite fully piece together what his warrior had said then, but he could never forget how much glee his voice held and the bubbly laughter that had left his lips, how warm those bandaged hands felt wrapped around his bare wrists despite the rain soaking both their forms, how endearing the unkempt hair soaked and sticking his head was in ways it should not be, how his eyes crinkled upwards with every word he spoke. But, and what must be the most unforgettable, were how his eyes were so full of life he just could not turn his gaze away no matter how much he tried.after the events of holminster switch, the exarch begins to realize he hasn't moved on as much as he thought he had
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Therefore You and Me [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980121
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	what it means to yearn

**Author's Note:**

> it really shows how much time i spend in the crystarium if i can never every area by heart cfgvbhnjkm

The Exarch cannot remember the last time he saw rain.

It falls now from the sky in gentle waves as if gravity is a piece of soft music from the ground below his feet, a sweet beckoning serenade soothing away all the worries and stress from his soul. An echo of life bursting into the night. Small pellets of water spill onto his hands as the remainder of the drops join the scattered puddles decorating the bridge. To feel it isn't enjoyment, not pleasant like the gentle caress sunshine of springtime, yet it is a part of life and the Exarch wants to feel it just the same. He wants to feel  _ something _ . He wants to feel the droplets soak his eyelashes and drip down his face before they join their brethren on the ground like saltless tears. He wants to feel the way his robes will stick to his skin, uncomfortable but freeing all the same. He wants to be able to stare into the sky, rain dripping onto his face, and just allow himself to become one with the world around him rather than allowing himself to be shrouded in mystery.

The hood drawn over his face prevents any of his wishes from being granted.

How easy would it be to bring his fingers up, to clasp around the thin fabric and let it fall back, to tip his head and let the drops roll over his skin, let his ears breathe in the wind that rushes on by. He pushes away any notions of such foolishness, yet he could not ignore the ghost of a memory that comes creeping up, of a dimpled smile and a face streaked with rain and mismatched eyes that stole his breath away every time they made every contact. 

_ “...!” _ It has been too many years for the Exarch to quite fully piece together what his warrior had said then, but he could never forget how much glee his voice held and the bubbly laughter that had left his lips, how warm those bandaged hands felt wrapped around his bare wrists despite the rain soaking both their forms, how endearing the unkempt hair soaked and sticking his head was in ways it should not be, how his eyes crinkled upwards with every word he spoke. But, and what must be the most unforgettable, were how his eyes were so full of life he just could not turn his gaze away no matter how much he tried.

The Exarch shakes his head. There was no use in becoming sentimental- he must focus, or else he will lose his nerve. He turns to head on his way back to the Ocular for more work when his ears pick up on the sound of shoes clashing with puddles.

“Exarch! Wait!” Mikta calls. The Exarch turns just in time for Mikta to dig his heels into the ground skidding to a halt causing water to come splashing up against his legs. He bends down, grasping his knees, catching his breath. He must have rushed over here from the Pendants to the Tessellation. In their moment of silent exchange, the Exarch cannot help but commit every new feature to memory.

His hair is streaked with grey bringing more age to his overall youthful appearance. His eyes were still that charming blue and gold, but (and it might just be his own imagination) the blue seems to hold brighter; That blue color that brings hope and life no matter what has happened to the world around him, no matter how bleak and hopeless things may seem. He is skinny, but the way his clothes hung around gave away the lean muscle beneath from years of battles against stronger foes. His toned arms are traced in white tattoos weaving arcane spells that freely allow him to cast spells in tight scenarios rather than the bandages he so fondly remembers. The rain fell over his face, more numerous than even the freckles in his tan skin, joining to wash over him in a delicate cascade of trickles. But when he smiles his eyes crinkle upwards and it is then that the Exarch realizes that, no matter how many decades may pass for the two, he will forever be enamored with the other.

The Exarch waits patiently for Mikta to gather his bearings, watching as he straightens himself, patting down his soaked coat. When Mikta’s head tips upwards there is a slant to his smile and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. A flame he thought he had long since extinguished begins to thrum in his heart. “When the guard at the Ocular told me you left for a walk, I was wondering where you went. Who would have thought you’d come all the way out here.” He turns to glance around just now taking in his surroundings, taking in how the lamplight bounced off the crystal architecture, further enhanced by the rain. “Although...it rather is a beautiful sight.”

“I come out here to think.” The Exarch explains. He faces forward once more, watching how the rain paints a mosaic of color amongst Lakeland’s purple abundance, listening to the amaros chirp in the distance and the faint call of laughter from children as they rush through the Rotunda kicking up puddles in their wake, breathes in the smell of freshly soaked dirt and the mist waving off the buildings. “What is it that you needed, my friend? Have the Scions made any progress on discovering the next Lightwarden?”

“Ah, not yet.” There comes that shyness again. He doesn’t know what, but some event in his long absence must have lessened Mikta’s confidence in himself, those eyes that used to hold such a bright spark now dull and thoughtful, toeing at the ground. He aches to reach out and let his fingers skim over his warrior’s cheek, to reassure him, to protect him from whatever insecurities or thoughts weighed heavy on his shoulders, to help bring back such a radiant smile. But he, instead, keeps his hands stiffly to his side, longing in silence. “I was actually looking for you. I...I was rather harsh with you when I first came to Norvrandt. I wanted to apologize.”

“The fault is mine.” He shakes his head.  _ No, he mustn’t blame himself- there is no reason to. _

“Now, don’t say that.” Ah, there’s that smile. Mikta chuckles, easy and washing him in a sense of familiarity he has long forgotten, unwavering underneath the rain. The fur on his tail and ears stick to the skin and his clothes look uncomfortably soaked and all the Exarch can intelligently come up with is  _ he’s going to catch ill. _ “I was hoping we could talk. You see...I...don’t know why but...you remind me of an old friend…” He trails off.

_ Oh. _

The Exarch squeezes his eyes shut, imperceptibly tightening his grip on his staff, small visible puffs of air blowing past his lips as his breathing quickens, fingers pinching the edge of his hood tugging it further over his head.

“I see.” He manages and clears his throat. “As I had mentioned before, I...do not recall the name ‘G’raha Tia’ nor have I heard in my time as the Exarch, but…” He knows he should stop here. He should just give Mikta a friendly smile, escort him back to his room, and disappear into the Ocular where no one can discover his secret. But...the words still on his tongue, so close to being released into the air, knuckles turning white with how tight his grip has become on the staff. What had once been will never be recovered- forever lost in the past and in the world he can no longer return to. So  _ why can he not speak? _

“I know.” Mikta sighs. The Exarch looks over to find him with his arms crossed over his chest, staring out in the distance, contrasting eyes glazed with just narrowly held back tears. He’s becoming further and further away from his grasp and he wants to reach out, to take Mikta’s hand in his and pull his hood back all the while screaming “ _ I’m here! I’m right here!” _ And while his hands stay to his side, his heart  _ yearns _ . “Raha would have loved the Crystarium. Norvrandt. You. He always was one for adventures. Seeking out new places to visit and learning new songs in their taverns all the while charming all the people who met him. I’m sorry for disturbing you. I really don’t know what came over me.” He turns on his heel. This was it. This is the moment where he should allow him to leave, to let the gap between their hearts stay a ravine that may never be crossed.

“I do not mind the company.” The Exarch speaks. “I...would enjoy talking with you again, my friend. There are many tomes in the Cabinet of Curiosity that involve the Crystal Tower that you may be interested in.”

“Really?” And there is that boyish charm the Exarch fell for. All sorrow in Mikta is gone in an instant, a new spark having entered his eyes at the prospect, breaking out into a wide smile. “I would like that.”

“Well, I cannot say all the research there is, indeed, accurate as they were all recorded at the time of discovery and are mostly created out of theories, but since I will be present with you, I suppose there is no harm in telling you.” He muses, fighting back a smile when Mikta’s grows, his heart now actively pounding against his chest. The rain has all but become a light drizzle, dark clouds that plagued the night sky now fading away revealing the all-encompassing blanket of stars, the Crystal Tower watching them in the distance as they head towards the Pendants, their steps falling sync with the others, the bluespirit grimoire at Mikta’s side glowing faintly and the staff in the Exarch’s grip humming softly.

He knows that one-day Mikta will learn of his identity and that day when the Light becomes too much for him to bear, he truly will die. He has long since accepted his fate. But this was before they came face to face again, their gaze meeting across the lavender meadow of Lakeland, the tears building up in his eyes as all his years of work came to fruition. Before he watched Mikta pierce the ever-present veil of Light from the sky and return the night, the starlight shining down surrounding his form in the fields of Holminster Switch, the Light being absorbed into his body already beginning to tip the scales of his aetherial balance, his head turning to look towards the Exarch, skin bruised and scratched from the fighting his way through sineaters, and yet the smile on his face shines as bright as ever.

_ “I did it.” _

It was then, watching as Mikta disappears into the Pendants with the promise of visiting the library some other day, the seed of doubt forms in his mind.

Does he truly want to die?

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i have a twitter! come swing by and say hey! i post screenshots of mikta along with shitposts, some excerpts to upcoming works and maybe even some drabbles in the future, and i rt a lot of graha art!  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/H0bblyW0bbly)


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